


Early Morning Musing

by dizzy



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-11
Updated: 2004-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3073478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ficlet, soft and squishy Dom-feelings... not much more than that.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Early Morning Musing

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet, soft and squishy Dom-feelings... not much more than that.

Dom does his best writing at night, when the lights are off save the small one on his desk and Billy is asleep in bed, whistling softly with every breath. The moon outside is bright and almost full, the window facing just the right direction to let a bit of light in. Just a bit, not too much or it would chase away the darkness, and Dom needs the darkness. It's atmosphere, it sets the mood. It is in these moments that Dom is honest with himself, lists the problems in his life and how he can't change them and admits to himself that maybe doesn't really need to after all. This is when he turns to look at Billy, sees the living profile, the rise and fall of his chest, the way the cover is halfheartedly wrapped around him. Dom lets the flow of pleasure wash over him, the contentment of Billy in his bed, Billy being here, Billy just being.

It isn't often that these things come together in just the right way. It isn't every night that Dom can sit down at his desk and pull out his notebook and start writing, pen moving on paper with all of the ease of taking a breathe and only half the effort. It isn't every night that Billy shows up on his doorstep, tired and lonely and offering alcohol, good strong liquor that makes the world seem like a brighter place, brighter if not better. Then again, maybe it is better, because Billy's around. Dom feels like he's already hit the bottle a time or two, his head is spinning and he's grinning so wide that his cheeks ache. Billy sets the bottle down and slides himself into Dom's arms, right where he fits best, nose buried in the crook of Dom's neck, Dom's hands wrapping around the small of Billy's back. "Missed you," Billy murmurs, sighing into Dom's skin. Dom nods, keeps nodding faintly, cheek brushing against Billy's forehead with the movement.

Billy explains that he was taking a flight back to Scotland, unexpected layover in LA and he couldn't pass up the opportunity to see his best mate, even if it was just for a night or so. Or so, Dom repeats to himself, relishing the hope that wells up inside of him with those two little words.

So they drank and they talked and they flipped stations on the telly to see if there was anything worth watching on. Long hours later, the tv was muted and the conversation had dwindled to occasional sighs and the random comment here and there that didn't really call for a reply. Side by side on the couch, illuminated by the flashing from the screen, the too bright, overly-saturated colors tinting their hands and faces. "Sleep," Dom says and Billy nods, accepting the hand that is offered to him and following Dom to the bedroom, the one single bed that they will share. No words exchanged, Billy takes his overnight bag into the bathroom and emerges a few minutes later, minty-breathed in boxers and a t-shirt that Dom recognized from long past New Zealand nights. Dom sleeps too, then, comforted by the closeness of Billy and doesn't wake for hours, when his hand twitches and he remembered the journal that he hasn't touched in three weeks at least.

It's not quite four in the morning, and Dom only just now realizes that this is when he does his best writing. He remembers again those drinkless nights when he and Billy and Elijah would play video games and mess around until the wee hours, would crash on whoever's floor, in whoever's bedroom. Dom remembers waking then and wishing for a notebook, a scrap of paper, anything on which to record the frantic pace of thoughts inside his head.

His hand is starting to cramp, he's lost track of how much time has passed since he sat down here. It's still not light outside, so it can't have been more than an hour. Harder and harder to hold his eyes open, to hold the pen against the paper.

"Dom," He hears Billy say, not in a sleepy-voice, in a wide-awake-and-wondering-you-are-doing.

"Mmm?"

"Coming back to bed?"

Dom looks blankly at the paper in front of him, faintly surprised to see Billy's name so many times, vaguely aware that what he's written will probably be painful and a bit angsty to read over in the morning. "Yeah, I'm coming." The pen rolls out from between his fingers and he closes the notebook, reaching up to twist the lamp back off.


End file.
